


Redacted

by nh8343



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Non-Graphic Sex, it's more of a plot device than anything, take a shot every time yuta says babe, the company essentially has a modern-day brothel, trainees!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 09:13:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18870208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nh8343/pseuds/nh8343
Summary: Taeyong will do whatever it takes to debut. And if that means blacking out his soul, obscuring the ugly parts that no one wants to see? So be it.





	Redacted

**Author's Note:**

> Woke up in a cold sweat at 2am and wrote out a rambling wall of text that somehow turned into this?? Way out of my usual comfort zone, so posting before I chicken out (again).

 

 

**I.**

 

He’s heard whispers about it, of course.

 

Every I-Drop trainee has, at one point or another. Rumors of the company going the extra mile to prevent scandals with their idols always seem to come back to one thing and one thing only: sex. A hidden red-light district. A modern-day brothel dressed up with a pretty bow and available for a handful of entertainment companies alone. Either everyone uses it, or hardly anyone does, depending on who you talk to. Then there are the trainees who say it’s all groundless bullshit invented by horny teenagers too wound up from practicing to tell their left hand from their right.

 

Taeyong has always considered himself part of the latter camp, though to be honest, he doesn’t give it too much thought in the first place. He’s been preoccupied with nonstop choreography and vocal lessons now that he’s been pulled from the masses to finally get a shot at debut. HeartBrake isn’t 100% official yet, not announced to the public, but that will come with time. When Taeyong gets a moment to breathe, he stops and stares and realizes that his dream might actually be coming true. It means five times the grind, even more blood, sweat, and tears wrung from his body, but it’s really happening.

 

The point is this: it’s been a while since he’s given the brothel rumor a second thought. And then Dongyoung shows up early to practice one morning, pops the bubblegum in his mouth, and says, “It’s true what they say, you know.”

 

The words don’t register with Taeyong at first. He’s too busy trying to figure out why Dongyoung is speaking with him when they frankly haven’t gotten along since the day they met. Dongyoung had waltzed into the first vocal lesson with a bravado that was clearly meant to overcompensate for insecurity, belting out the latest chart-topper with only minor mistakes. That chip on Dongyoung’s shoulder had gradually evolved into a confidence that grates on Taeyong’s nerves to no end. Somehow, it bothers him that Dongyoung is so outwardly comfortable in his own skin. Not the best dynamic for future groupmates to have, probably, but it’s whatever. They can be coworkers without having to be friends.

 

“What they say about _what_?” Taeyong finally asks, figuring it’s too rude to stay silent.

 

“The big rumor that everyone won’t shut up about. The company’s hush-hush service: Midnight.”

 

As much as they don’t see eye to eye, Taeyong had always assumed Dongyoung was above the trainee grapevine. But he sounds so confident about it, like he does about everything, that Taeyong bites back the cynical comment on the tip of his tongue.

 

That doesn’t mean Dongyoung doesn’t notice. He lets out a snort at the unsaid criticism, starting his stretches before clarifying, “My brother’s friend works there. Not _works_ there, works there, but he helps run their numbers every month. A few companies pay a pretty price for them to keep it a secret; their idols have somewhere to blow off steam. Everybody wins.”

 

_Why tell me this?_ Taeyong thinks, but his lips say, “How does that even work if they don’t tell us anything?”

 

“Some legal shit about not letting us know until we’re twenty-one and debuted.” Dongyoung’s lips curl up into a smirk. “Why? Interested?”

 

“Whatever.”

 

Fortunately, Dongyoung’s attention shifts to Youngho, who chooses that moment to walk into the practice room. Taeyong blocks out the sound of Dongyoung re-telling his juicy tidbit of news and starts his own stretches. Let Dongyoung have his five minutes of fame, but Taeyong won’t waste another thought on it. The last thing their trio needs is a distraction.

 

✘

 

As it turns out, their trio isn’t going to be a trio at all. HeartBrake is debuting as a 4-member group. Their manager breaks it to them one morning before practice, pulling along a newly added trainee who gives them all shy smiles and deep bows.

 

“This is Jung Jaehyun,” their manager introduces. “He’ll be another subvocal to split up Dongyoung’s singing parts.”

 

Dongyoung is the one most affected by the change, but the manager’s gaze lingers on Taeyong and Youngho, gauging the reactions of the two that have been here the longest. There isn’t much for him to worry about. Taeyong is well aware that his own vocal contributions are limited to begin with, and Youngho is frankly too nice to complain. This is unexpected, yes, but it’s fine. If anything, they’re one step even closer to debut.

 

Then Jung Jaehyun spends a few days with them, opens his damn mouth, and Taeyong wants to take it all back.

 

Jaehyun is thoughtful, hardworking, a good listener, quick to a smile, more handsome than he has the right to be. The others are immediately attached to him. Taeyong is too, at first, while he can still hide the sickness that flares beneath his skin. He’d worked so hard to keep it there, worked so hard to change. And now one boy is going to trample all his efforts into ruins.

 

After three nights of no sleep and horribly familiar feelings of self-hatred, he knows he can’t do this. Not again. When Jaehyun slides up to him and asks to share his earbuds, Taeyong stays silent and pretends he hasn’t heard. When Youngho invites him out for a trip to the corner store and Jaehyun asks to tag along, Taeyong cuts in to say that he wanted to speak with Youngho alone. The good foot they’d started out on quickly starts to deteriorate.

 

“Does Taeyong hate me?” Taeyong overhears Jaehyun asking once, just before he steps foot into the practice room. He immediately comes up short, hovering unseen outside of the entrance.

 

“No, I’m sure that’s not it.”

 

That’s Youngho’s voice. A coil of guilt forms in Taeyong’s stomach despite himself.

 

“Was it something I said? I thought we were getting along and then he just…”

 

_And then he just wasn’t strong enough to keep his shit together_.

 

“Taeyong has a lot on his mind with our debut. Sometimes he starts to shut people out when he gets stressed, so don’t worry too much. It’ll pass.”

 

It’ll pass. It’s not some unchangeable constant that’s plagued Taeyong’s life since the day he discovered it lurking there, running dirty through his bloodstream. It hasn’t put up ugly walls that only Youngho and a handful of others have managed to slip between.

 

Taeyong sucks in a deep breath to compose himself before stepping into the room, trying to ignore how the conversation dies and Jaehyun shrinks away. This is necessary, he reminds himself. For his own sanity and for the sake of everyone around him, this is necessary.

 

That night, he dreams of Jaehyun’s handsome face twisted into an awful look of fear and sadness, asking over and over again, “Does he hate me?”

 

_You’re not the one I hate!_ Taeyong insists, but he can’t open his mouth to speak.

 

Then the scene changes, and the look on Jaehyun’s face changes with it. “No, you don’t hate me at all, do you?” he asks, something mischievous in his eyes. “Quite the opposite, I think.” Pink dusts his cheekbones as he laughs to himself, leans in, and wait━

 

_Wait_.

 

Too late. Taeyong’s chest squeezes painfully tight as he feels a pair of lips pressed against his own, eyelids fluttering shut against his will. It’s hardly more than a peck, but it sends tingles running down Taeyong’s spine.

 

“Cute,” Jaehyun says softly, breath ghosting across Taeyong’s ear. Jaehyun’s voice. Jaehyun. This can’t happen; this is all wrong. Taeyong _can’t_.

 

He shoves Jaehyun away so violently that he wakes up in his bed with a gasp. One glance over at Youngho’s bed assures him that he hasn’t woken the other up, but that doesn’t stop his heart from beating wildly in his chest, threatening to suffocate him. The sickness beneath his skin seems to taunt him, laughing at the defenses it had finally broken though.

 

_I’m sorry_ , Taeyong apologizes. He doesn’t know who it’s for. _I’m sorry_.

 

He cries himself to sleep and blames his puffy morning eyes on stress. It’s not entirely a lie. Youngho gives him a concerned look and says, “Let me know if anything’s bothering you, okay?”

 

“I will.”

 

That one is.

 

✘

 

Taeyong had sworn he’d pay Dongyoung’s words no heed. He’d meant it, too. Really. But more important than his pride is that he get his shit together before debut. He’s not about to let his friends and members down just because he didn’t try to fix himself. And what better way to banish his own strain of abnormal than to get it screwed out of him, so to speak?

 

(God, it sounds so crude when he puts it that way. What the fuck is he doing? He’s a lost cause already, and this isn’t going to change that. But, _damn it_ , he has to try.)

 

Taeyong sends a text to a number he thought he’d never use again, hides his features under a cap and mask, and ducks out into the night.

 

Junhyun is waiting right where he said he would, arms crossed and foot tapping. “You’re late,” he accuses with no real heat.

 

“You’re early.”

 

“Touché. I’m a little surprised you were the one to call me, Taeyong. It’s been a while. And you have a phone again, so that can’t be what this is about.”

 

“No, I need something else: a company ID. At least 2 years older and marked as part of a debuted group. Can you handle that?”

 

“So Taeyong’s getting into some trouble now that he’s moved on from the rest of us now, huh?” Junhyun asks.

 

The words may be light, but his eyes are sharp, calculating. Taeyong is glad his disguise hides his expression. Junhyun is an acquaintance, not a friend. He may be the one to reach out to for something like this, but if he gets any ideas about what Taeyong is up to, he won’t hesitate to sell that tidbit to anyone willing to buy.

 

“Yeah, I can do it,” Junhyun finally continues when Taeyong stays silent. “There’s a member of O-Type who’s laying low for the next eight months or so. Tax evasion and fraud, I hear. I can repurpose his ID for you. And your payment?”

 

Taeyong hands over the wad of bills and wants to scream. He’d been saving this for something fun, something to celebrate his debut. This is a slap in the face instead of a celebration.

 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Junhyun says with a low chuckle.

 

Taeyong walks away.

 

Two days later, a letter with his name on it is slipped under his door, the red lettering staring back at him with a wordless taunt.

 

“What’s that?” Youngho asks when Taeyong picks it up. There’s nowhere for them to get fan mail yet, and it’s strange that a letter would make it this far in the first place.

 

“Just something from the company,” Taeyong brushes it off. He hopes Youngho can’t see the way his hands are shaking. “Not important.”

 

Youngho raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push it any further. Only when Taeyong’s sure the other is fast asleep does he break the seal to look at the thin card inside. _Park Dongmin_ , it reads plainly next to Taeyong’s trainee picture. _Age 23_. He shoves it into the back of his bedside drawer so he doesn’t have to look at it, doesn’t have to think.

 

That night he dreams of black masks and pointing fingers.

 

✘

 

It’s ironic, in the end, how much truth was hidden in the rumors. Taeyong winds his way down the northwest hallway of the ground floor and nearly laughs when he sees the set of stairs going down at the end of it. Surely, it’s not this easy? But a tap of his forged card gets him past the door and through the tunnel, signage appearing near the end to direct him to Midnight. It’s quiet down here, almost eerily so.

 

Five feet from the door, Taeyong panics. This is really happening. It takes all his willpower to scan himself inside and take those final steps.

 

“ID, please.”

 

There’s a woman who meets him just inside the doors, stepping out from behind a desk to extend her hand. Taeyong wordlessly hands over his card. He can’t even concentrate on how real this has just become ━ someone knows he’s here, someone’s acknowledged that he’s going through with it. He’s frankly just grateful he doesn’t have to figure out by himself what the hell he’s supposed to do.

 

The woman’s eyes flicker between the ID card and Taeyong’s face twice before she nods and hands it back. “Follow me to your room. You have a particular lady in mind tonight?”

 

“Um.” Shit. Taeyong takes back what he said about not needing to know what he’s doing.

 

Something clicks in the woman’s eyes. “First time here?”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

Taeyong feels mortified. Half of him wants to turn tail and run back out the way he came, never to show his face again.

 

“I’ll send Myunghee, then. I-Drop should have briefed you, but respect the girls and we won’t have any problems. Just inside, Mister Park.”

 

Taeyong gives her a nod that he hopes doesn’t look as nervous as he feels, and then he steps inside. He gingerly takes a seat on the bed and tries to steady his breathing. Why can’t he calm down? This shouldn’t be a big deal. Just because he’s breaking multiple rules (and laws, probably), plans on sleeping with this Myunghee when the furthest he’s gone has been hickeys and over-the-clothes fooling around in his mid-teens, has _no fucking clue_ what he’s doing━

 

“Park Dongmin?” a soft voice comes from the cracked doorway. Taeyong awkwardly scrambles to his feet as a young woman steps inside and closes the door behind her with a definitive _click_.

 

“It’s Taeyong,” he corrects her before he can think, throat dry.

 

“Taeyong,” she repeats with a smile, not seeming fazed in the least.

 

She’s beautiful. Gorgeous, in fact. Long black hair frames perfect makeup and falls just a few inches lower than the belt tied around her silk robe. Like something out of a dream. Taeyong tries to feel something other than the panic beating against his chest.

 

“I’m Myunghee,” she introduces, gradually drifting into his personal space, “And I’ll be taking care of you tonight. A little bird told me that this is your first time. First time here, or…?” She’s right in front of him now, running one perfectly manicured finger down his chest.

 

“You...could say that.”

 

Once more, Myunghee doesn’t seem fazed, just smiles and tells him, “I’ll keep that in mind. Did you have any specific requests?”

 

There’s white noise somewhere in the back of Taeyong’s head, making it hard to think. “Anything,” he chokes out, the word nearly getting caught in this throat. Anything to make him stop feeling like this. Anything to fix what’s broken inside.

 

“Anything.” The look in her eyes shifts into something enticing, more intense, as she brings Taeyong’s hands up to grip the ribbon around her waist. “Then what are you waiting for?”

 

It takes all of Taeyong’s willpower for his hands not to shake. He unties the knot and doesn’t look away as the fabric falls open, exposing a canvas of smooth skin and soft curves. Just stares. He knows he should do something, anything, but he’s frozen in place.

 

Myunghee must notice his hesitation. She draws her shoulders back and allows the last of the robe to slip from her frame and pool on the floor. (Another someone who’s comfortable in their own skin, Taeyong notes somewhere in his malfunctioning headspace.) She takes the half-step to close the distance between them and then a few inches more, claiming his lips in a soft kiss. (He’s supposed to feel something, isn’t he? Not just the pressure of it?)

 

Gingerly, Taeyong rests his hands on her waist. The soft noise she makes sounds like an encouragement. (She’s perfect, but he’s too broken to appreciate it.) ( _No._ )

 

In an act of defiance, Taeyong reaches one hand up to thread through that long hair, kissing her more insistently. When she gently nips at his bottom lip, he gives it right back to her. When she tugs at his shirt, he breaks apart for the briefest of moments to yank it up over his head. And when she presses against him closer still, he backs up a few inches to lay on that single bed, pulling her on top of him.

 

A thought crosses Taeyong’s mind immediately after, that he shouldn’t be the one under _her_ , but Myunghee is already straddling him, hands braced on Taeyong’s bare chest. “Ready for a little more?” she asks.

 

“Of course,” Taeyong lies. (There’s _something_ here, at least, with her perched on the most sensitive part of his body. This isn’t hopeless. It can’t be.)

 

She leans down to kiss him once more, whispers, “You can touch me, you know,” against his lips. Taeyong’s hand is led up to the swell of her breast. (This is what he’s supposed to want.) She shifts against him, setting off something that vaguely resembles pleasure. (He’s breaking.)

 

The sickness rises to the surface of Taeyong’s skin like a full-body ache. A half-swallowed “stop” is yanked from his throat, making them both freeze. (He’s ruined everything.)

 

“What was that?” Myunghee asks. She’s not leaning down anymore. Taeyong’s hands have fallen to his sides.

 

“Please...stop.”

 

Taeyong’s voice sounds pathetic to his own ears. He can’t look her in the eye, not even after she quickly slides off of him and sits a comfortable distance away. What kind of pathetic idiot does she see next to her?

 

“Taeyong…” The way she says his name is soft again, the enticing edge evaporated. He doesn’t deserve it.

 

“I’m so sorry. I can’t do this. It’s not you; I just...I can’t.”

 

She’s silent for a long moment. Taeyong doesn’t look her way, doesn’t want to see her expression. He curls in on himself like a child, hiding his face in his hands and trying to block this nightmare out. There’s an artificial coolness in the air he hadn’t noticed before that chills the exposed skin of his back.

 

“The last thing I want to do is overstep,” Myunghee says gently, “and maybe I’m reading this wrong. When I first came in, I thought it was only nerves, but…” She hesitates. “You’re with I-Drop, right? They’re too conservative for their own good, even despite their arrangement with Midnight. Their rules are some of the strictest. But if you came here and asked for my name, ‘in my other outfit’, I could send someone else. Someone...maybe not so feminine.”

 

A coil of shame twists in Taeyong’s gut. He’s that obvious, is he? She saw straight through him after less than ten minutes in the same room. Somewhere in his mind, he registers how kind of her it is to bring it up, if he can really call the option a kind one. He mumbles out some variation of a “thank you” and another “I’m sorry” before he feels her stand and walk toward the door.

 

“Sojin will be here in a few minutes to escort you out,” Myunghee says before the door opens. “Think about what I said, Taeyong.”

 

She steps out, leaving Taeyong alone with the last tattered shreds of his dignity.

 

 

**II.**

 

If things would have gone as planned, Taeyong would have shown up for practice the next day with his head sewn on straight and his focus dialed back in on HeartBrake’s debut. Now it seems he’s managed to make everything worse.

 

Gone are the deceitfully innocent daydreams of soft smiles and stolen kisses that make Taeyong’s heart ache something painful. Instead, he’s plagued with dreams of hands and lips and heat that he can’t think too hard on for fear of giving them more power. There’s this frustration inside him now that provokes such thoughts, a mocking reminder of what Taeyong can never change and can never allow himself to have. A reminder that still insists on painting Jaehyun’s face over every imagined sin, to the point that Taeyong can no longer meet his gaze. What would Jaehyun think, if he somehow read even part of the truth sitting there?

 

Guilt keeps Taeyong up at night when the stress and fear of more dreams isn’t enough to do the trick. He hates this. He absolutely fucking hates this. He’d sworn to himself years ago that he would bury his urges deep enough to never let them get in the way of his dream, and now look what he’s done. Why is it when he only wants to push this all away for another time, it’s all he can think about?

 

“Taeyong, you’re doing it again.”

 

“What?” Taeyong snaps out of his trance, disoriented, and sees Youngho looking at him with increasingly familiar concern. They’re still in the practice room, but where are…?

 

“You keep spacing out,” Youngho clarifies. “I wasn’t gonna say anything, because I know we’re all stressed, but it’s like you didn't even notice when Dongyoung and Jaehyun stepped out.”

 

Another shortcoming, it would seem. And there are talks of him being leader. How is he meant to lead anyone when he can’t get a hold of _himself_?

 

“Sorry, I was distracted. I should have noticed.”

 

“I’m not looking for an apology. I just…” Youngho shakes his head, clearing whatever thoughts are trapped there. “You can tell me if anything’s wrong, alright? We used to talk all the time. I don’t know what changed, but I’m still here, whenever you need.”

 

Something heavy sits in the back of Taeyong’s throat. “Thank you,” he says, “but it’s nothing. I promise.”

 

He loves Youngho. He really does. But he’s not throwing away years of friendship for something he should be plenty capable of dealing with himself. Youngho almost looks like he wants to say something more, but he leaves with a “good” and a last ruffle of Taeyong’s bangs. “Don’t stay too late!” he calls over his shoulder.

 

“I won’t!”

 

Taeyong waits until the door clicks shut. He takes a deep breath. He doesn’t come back to their room until it’s 4am and his body is too exhausted to dream.

 

There’s a pastry sitting on his bedside table from the bakery down the street, next to a note that reads simply: _Take care of yourself_. This, Taeyong thinks, this is his lowest point.

 

He’s wrong. That comes three days later when Dongyoung corners him in an empty hallway after lunch. Dongyoung has his arms crossed and his legs spread, the steel in his eyes making him take up much more space than his gangly figure suggests.

 

“Let’s cut to the chase,” he says firmly. “We’re six months from debut, tops, and you’ve turned into a ticking time bomb of crazy. Youngho won’t shut up about how worried he is, the trainers are getting pissed at _us_ because you can’t focus, Jaehyun’s practically stopped smiling, and I’m frankly tired of dealing with your shit. So what’s really going on?”

 

“None of your business,” Taeyong tells him through gritted teeth.

 

“Oh, but it is. I didn’t put my life on hold and train for four years just so you could ruin this for me. I need to know what I can do to dial down whatever freak-out you’re in the middle of.”

 

“I’ve got it covered.”

 

“Of course you do.” Dongyoung glares a few moments longer, like he’s hoping Taeyong will cave, before he lets out a sound too frustrated to be a sigh. “Fine. Be like that. You want my advice? If you’re so wound up, just make a visit to Midnight. I’m sure you can figure out a way in.”

 

Whatever expression passes across Taeyong’s face, he’s not fast enough to hide it. Dongyoung’s eyes light up in surprised delight, his stance losing some of its stiffness. “You already did,” he realizes. “I never would’ve guessed. Damn, not even one of the Midnight girls could get you to loosen up.”

 

He probably means it as a joke. But right now, all Taeyong can feel is a boiling anger that’s been stewing all week. “Nothing happened,” he says firmly.

 

“Nothing that you’re going to tell me, anyway. There’s no way you walked into a brothel and had nothing happen.”

 

“I couldn’t go through with it; it was...uncomfortable.” Why is he insisting on this? It’s none of Dongyoung’s business, but it drives Taeyong to the edge for someone to just _assume_.

 

“Sure it was, Golden Boy. Seriously, though, what was it like? The place, I mean, not your wild late-night adventures.”

 

There’s something so flippant about the way he says it, so casual. Taeyong feels something inside him snap. “Fuck off, Dongyoung,” he all but growls, shoving past the man in question.

 

“Wait. Taeyong, I was only trying to━”

 

“I said fuck off!”

 

Taeyong doesn’t stick around any longer to find out what exactly Dongyoung was trying to do. He storms down the hallway and back up to the dorms, ignoring a wide-eyed Jaehyun and Youngho’s concerned “Taeyong?”. He can’t do this right now. He can’t. He shuts himself in the bathroom, locks the door, and turns the shower on full blast, letting the lukewarm water soak through his clothes as he sits in the corner. And Taeyong sobs.

 

(But what does it matter? No one can hear.)

 

✘

 

He’s not getting any better. That much is clear from when he lost his composure the other day. Dongyoung has added himself to the list of people who won’t look Taeyong in the eye, and Taeyong knows now that he’s armed with a secret. How dangerous is that secret? What's the worst he could do with it? Taeyong tries not to think too hard on that one; he has enough going wrong at the moment.

 

But back to the point: there’s no fixing this. Him. So before he can ruin things with his members even more than he already has, Taeyong is going to take his sin and bury it in someone else’s skin. Someone who he doesn’t have to feel guilty about placing that burden upon. He checks three different times that he isn’t being followed before swiping his forged card into that eerily empty hallway.

 

“I’ll see Myunghee,” he says to the woman at the front, “in her other outfit.”

 

If she knows the true meaning under his words, she doesn’t give it away, only giving him a brisk, “She’ll be with you shortly. Follow me.”

 

When Taeyong sits down on the bed in that small room, however, he finds all his flimsy confidence falling apart. It’s not that he’s second-guessing himself, necessarily; this is something he needs to do. But there’s a difference between hypotheticals and actually going through with it, a level of admitting the ugly parts of himself that’s jarring, to say the least. Taeyong’s skin itches all over, like it’s being stretched too tight.

 

The door creaks open. Someone slips inside. And Taeyong barely comprehends the “Hi, Dongmin. Or, should I say, Taeyong,” that falls from the newcomer’s lips because he’s too busy staring.

 

Thoughts and feelings that Taeyong has kept locked away for years start to make themselves known, stronger now that he’s letting them rise to the surface after denying them for so long. This man is...beautiful. There’s no other way to describe him. (It’s clear now what a lost cause it was, trying to lock this away. A futile attempt at a fix.) Taeyong should speak, but he’s tongue-tied.

 

The man seems to find that funny, because he grins when he shakes his head. “I’ve got you speechless, huh? Well, Myunghee told me you were handsome, but not _this_ handsome.” He crosses the room to come sit cross-legged on the bed next to Taeyong, poking him once in the arm. “Seriously, what are they feeding idols nowadays?”

 

“Not a lot,” Taeyong says before he can overthink it, and the man snorts.

 

“This probably sounds like lip service, but I like you already. I’m Yuta, by the way. Should probably mention that.”

 

Yuta. It suits him. Taeyong has to put in a stupid amount of effort to meet his eyes when he talks, but it’s worth the effort. They’re very, very pretty eyes. (That’s kind of pathetic.) Yuta must notice, because he says immediately, “Babe, no need to be so nervous. Relax.”

 

“Sorry, that’s...not really happening right now. I’ve never…”

 

“Don’t worry, I get it.” Yuta turns so that he’s facing Taeyong instead of sitting next to him, patting the spot in front of his crossed legs. “Come here. I know exactly what you need.”

 

Already? Taeyong hasn’t mentally prepared himself yet, but it’s hard to say no to those eyes. He gingerly scoots himself to the spot Yuta pointed out, turning around when the other man instructs him to. He resists the urge to worry his bottom lip between his teeth, unsure of how to calm the rising panic in his chest.

 

And then two hands come to rest on his shoulders, thumbs pressing into the juncture between his shoulder blades and his neck. It feels _heavenly_. Taeyong immediately decides he’d stay like this for hours if he could, with Yuta’s hands smoothing out the hard knots of muscle that have formed from overexerting his body. His pride stops him from letting out any moans when Yuta presses into an especially sore spot. But he does let out an especially breathy sigh that probably isn’t any less embarrassing.

 

“How are you so good at this?” he asks.

 

“Practice. And I’ve been told I’m _very_ good with my fingers.”

 

Taeyong’s glad they’re not facing each other, so the flush on his face is less obvious. “You don’t have to answer,” he says to change the subject, “but I’m curious. Why did Myunghee send you? You’re okay with...you know, it being me?” Halfway through, he realizes how stupid it sounds. Too late now.

 

“What did I say about relaxing, babe?” Yuta admonishes him gently, pulling Taeyong’s shoulders down from where they’ve started to draw together. “It’s a fair question. We’re all here for other people’s pleasure. Myunghee sent me because unlike the other men here, I get a chance at enjoying it, too. I don’t discriminate.”

 

His thumbs dip beneath the collar of Taeyong’s shirt on the next stroke, making him shiver. It’s foreign to him not to push the feeling away. Taeyong hadn’t realized the extent to which he’d programmed himself to shut his own desires down. With how things have been going recently, he just assumed he’d done a shitty job.

 

He fights back the defensive tightening of his throat and asks, a pitch too high, “And what exactly would you enjoy?”

 

“A lot of things,” Yuta murmurs at his ear, “but tonight’s not about me, is it? It’s about you.”

 

Taeyong stiffens as cool lips press against the side of his neck. There’s a hand at his waist, anchoring him in place, and he does his best to focus on the touches themselves instead of the voice in his head telling him to run. This isn’t like the last time; that itch hasn’t reared its ugly head. No, this voice doesn’t sound like Taeyong’s own. If he can find a way to get over himself for a few stolen moments, when he’s here and not in the middle of━

 

“Let’s get this off of you, alright?” Yuta pulls away to ask, pulling at the fabric of Taeyong’s shirt. Some noise that sounds vaguely like a “yes” pries itself from Taeyong’s throat, and he doesn’t get back to that train of thought. Not when Yuta’s hands and lips are pressed against his skin, tingling everywhere they touch. Then suddenly, nothing.

 

Taeyong almost whines at the loss of contact before he hears a low, “Turn around.” When he does, he catches the tail end of Yuta tossing his own shirt to the floor. It’s hard not to stare, even harder to believe that he’s allowed. Yuta grins when he catches his eyes, which is equal parts comforting and making his stomach drop and is this really━?

 

“Well? You going to kiss me or not?” Yuta teases him, crawling closer. He stops before the distance gets too small, looking at Taeyong expectantly. And Taeyong just. Just. (His hands curl into fists. He wants so badly to lean forward, but he can’t. Even when what he wants is right in front of him, he can’t bring himself to take it. How incredibly stupid.)

 

Something in Yuta’s expression softens. “Stop me if it’s too much,” he says, and then he’s leaning in. (Stop him.) He pauses inches from Taeyong’s face, who can only tell by the breath ghosting over his lips when his eyes are sealed tightly shut. (Stop him before it’s too late.)

 

_Fuck you_ , Taeyong tells the voice inside his head, and Yuta kisses him.

 

It’s just a kiss. A tame one, considering the circumstances. Taeyong’s been kissed a few times before, though those had been more of a failed self-help project than a choice. But now, something shatters inside his chest and pieces itself back together. Another one, deeper, and Taeyong is already hooked. He grips onto Yuta with trembling hands, holding on just too tightly, if the other’s wince is anything to go by. When they separate, he thinks he’s forgotten how to breathe.

 

“It’s alright, babe, I’ve got you,” Yuta reassures him, still nothing but understanding.

 

Taeyong stares at his face, breaths still coming in shaky exhales, and thinks, _I’ve done it. I’ve kissed him_. He’s gone and passed the point of no return. He’s admitted defeat. But there’s something lighter inside him now, something freer. Within these four walls, all he’ll get in return for his sin are kind eyes and comforting touches.

 

“Kiss me again,” he whispers like a secret.

 

The concern in Yuta’s expression melts into a sort of fondness. “You don’t have to ask me twice,” he says, and he pushes Taeyong back into the mattress.

 

Taeyong still hasn’t loosened his grip. Yuta is pulled down with him, readjusting himself so that one leg falls on either side of Taeyongs’, kissing him two, three times more. “Tell me what you want,” he murmurs, fingers playing with the waistband of Taeyong’s jeans, and Taeyong feels all rational thought fly somewhere far beyond his reach.

 

“Anything.” Anything to never let this feeling end. Anything to keep him here in this fantasy world.

 

Minutes later, he has his jeans in a heap on the floor and a head of hair tickling against the insides of his thighs, one hand clamped over his own mouth to hold back the noises that threaten to spill out. It feels simultaneously like he’s drowning and yet has the most clarity he’s possessed in years, heightening each sensation.

 

When Taeyong’s body begins to draw in on itself, Yuta pulls off of him with a smirk. “Sounds like someone’s enjoying themselves,” he says, lips distractingly shiny. “Want me to keep going like this, or…?”

 

“What? Oh. I don’t…” Taeyong falls a few stories from his cloud, an anxious sort of tension creeping back into his body despite the lingering haze. He hadn’t taken the time to think this through. He honestly didn’t believe he’d have the courage to let things get this far.

 

“You’re overthinking things again, babe. It’s just sex; it’s supposed to be fun.” Yuta plants a kiss against Taeyong’s thigh, making him inhale sharply. “You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to. It won’t hurt my feelings.”

 

Maybe it’s the heat pooling low in his body talking, maybe it’s the part of his brain not attached to logic at all. And maybe that’s okay. But whatever the case, Taeyong opens his mouth and asks for more.

 

Yuta kisses him on the lips this time. He leans over to the bedside dresser, asking, “You have a preference?”

 

“I...don’t know?”

 

He feels Yuta’s laughter before he sees it. “I can work with that.”

 

It’s true, in a sense, what Yuta said before. It’s just sex. There’s nothing particularly world-changing about the slide of skin on skin, the snap of Yuta’s hips. But Taeyong doesn’t need the world to change, just one person in particular. And he swears he can feel strings of ugly knots in his chest coming loose the moment his body finds release. This _matters_. Something in his world has fundamentally shifted.

 

(And for the record, though he’ll never admit it aloud, he does find out that Yuta is in fact _very_ talented with his fingers.)

 

 

**III.**

 

It’s not complicated to single out what keeps Taeyong coming back to Midnight, not when that reason has a name and the warmest smile Taeyong has ever laid eyes on. The physical aspect of it, of course, is incredible. Addictive, even. But what also draws Taeyong in is the haven that’s been constructed within those walls. When it’s just Yuta listening, who intimately knows parts of Taeyong more than anyone else, there’s no appearances to keep up, no consequences of speaking his truth. He finally has a place to let out the words that would otherwise stay trapped in his own head.

 

That alone is probably the healthiest decision in years. He doesn’t feel on the brink of self-implosion anymore during training, and he hasn’t snapped at anyone else since his breakdown a few weeks ago (though Dongyoung and Jaehyun both still avoiding him may be helping on that front, too). But despite being able to breathe again, Taeyong finds himself at a loss when trying to reconsider his worldview.

 

He tells Yuta as much one night, after they’ve had enough time to catch their breaths. This is a common occurrence by now ━ Yuta staying to talk even when there’s nothing sexual about it. He must enjoy Taeyong’s company at least a little, because he never complains about the extra time. Taeyong is grateful for these moments. Because as much as he enjoys being pinned down and overwhelmed, he really does love just being held.

 

“It’s confusing,” Taeyong tells him. “Being with you feels so natural, not like this terrible thing the world makes it out to be. But knowing that it could ruin me and everyone else in the group...doesn’t that make it inherently bad?”

 

“That’s only the case because people haven’t fixed their own perception of what’s right and wrong. If there wasn’t a stigma, you’d have zero repercussions loving whoever you want. Your feelings themselves aren’t bad.”

 

Yuta always seems to have an answer for everything. Taeyong admires that about him. It’s why he can’t resist asking a few not so hypothetical questions about how to mend a crumbling relationship from destruction wrought by fear and unwanted infatuation.

 

“Talk to him,” Yuta insists. “Seriously, babe. Just apologize for pushing him away and make an effort to get to know him better. Don’t let him become just some unrequited crush.”

 

“It just feels...wrong? Trying to be close with him when he doesn’t know I thought of him that way. Even if it’s mostly in the past.”

 

“You don’t need permission to have feelings. And even if you did still like him, would it matter? Being kind to him isn’t taking advantage. Wanting to make someone smile isn’t going to hurt them.”

 

That conversation doesn’t leave Taeyong’s head all week. He buys two bags of chips from the corner store and pulls Jaehyun aside after practice one afternoon, handing one bag over as a peace offering. Jaehyun looks wary, but he sits down beside Taeyong on the wooden floor as they munch on their snacks.

 

“I owe you an apology,” Taeyong admits between bites. “There were some personal issues going on, and I took it out on you when you’ve been nothing but a great team member. I’m sorry.”

 

Jaehyun only blinks at him as he finishes chewing, like he’s wondering if there’s some sort of catch. When there isn’t, he drops his suspicious front entirely, looking relieved beyond measure. “You’re not mad at me, then?” he checks. “I really thought I’d screwed up, or you thought I was bringing the team down, or you didn’t want another member.”

 

“This was all on me. I promise. But maybe I can make it up to you? If it’s not too late, I still want to be friends.”

 

Jaehyun’s face breaks into one of those unrestrained smiles that Taeyong had immediately fallen for. “I’d like that,” he says sincerely. Just like that. All of the worry about ruining things between them forever had agonized Taeyong for so long, and all it took was a show of honesty to bridge the gap.

 

Finally, Taeyong feels like he’s back on the right path. It must put an extra spring in his step, smooth out some of his sharp edges, because Youngho brings it up in their room one evening before they turn in. “You seem happier lately,” he notes. “More like yourself.”

 

“I am. Sorry for making you worry.”

 

Youngho shrugs his shoulders like the past few weeks hadn’t happened at all. “I’m just glad to see you smiling again. Did something change? Meet someone special?”

 

And because Taeyong is sick of lying to him, he admits, “I’m seeing someone. It’s not serious, but I’m...a lot happier, yeah.”

 

Youngho looks surprised to have been right. “Anyone I’d know?” he asks.

 

“Not someone from the company, so I doubt it. There was someone else before, who I should have known I had no chance with, and it didn't work out. That’s been keeping me in a weird place for a while now.”

 

“Well then, I won’t insult your intelligence by telling you to be careful. You know the drill.”

 

“I’ll be careful. I don’t know how long it’ll last, but no one will know he exists. I won’t jeopardize━ Youngho?” Taeyong wonders why the other man’s eyes go wide for a fraction of a second until his own words catch up with him.

 

_Know he exists. He._ Taeyong fees like ice has been dumped over his head. Fixing the slip should be child’s play. All it would take is a quick, “Sorry, _she_ ” or even a “That’s her nickname, short for Heemi”. But Taeyong can’t say a word. How stupid does he have to be, for such a small mistake to be his downfall?

 

“I didn’t mean…” he tries weakly, though the words die in his throat. “I’m not…”

 

“Taeyong━”

 

“Please don’t tell anyone,” he begs. Is his chest supposed to feel this tight? Taeyong feels like he can’t get air into his lungs. “I’m sorry, I never wanted to━ I tried to fix it, but it didn’t━ Please don’t hate me, _please_ ━”

 

Suddenly, he’s surrounded by warmth. Youngho has bridged the distance between them to take Taeyong in his arms, holding him close. The familiar smell clinging to his sweatshirt is the only thing keeping Taeyong from losing it entirely.

 

“I could never hate you,” Youngho insists, the certainty of it rumbling against Taeyong’s body. “I won’t say anything, but you don’t need to be ashamed of this. I don’t think any differently of you. Deep breaths.”

 

Taeyong gulps in another lungful of air. Has he been shaking this badly the whole time? “You promise you don’t hate me?”

 

“I swear.”

 

Taeyong’s hands move from where they’re rigidly hanging at his sides to latch onto Youngho’s tall form, anchoring himself to something that’s not the terror running rampant in his own head. He focuses on nothing but the arms around him and that sworn reassurance until his breathing returns to normal.

 

“Before…” Youngho starts reluctantly. “When you mentioned being in a weird place. That was━?”

 

“I don’t want him to find out.”

 

“Oh, Taeyongie…” Youngho sounds heartbroken. “You could have said something. When I say I’m always here for you, I mean it. Anytime about anything, especially if it has you this upset.”

 

“I didn’t want you to look at me like some kind of freak.”

 

“Don’t say that about yourself.” Youngho lets out a long breath. “I still mean it. If you need an ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on, I’m here. Please don’t think I’ll look down on you.”

 

“Okay.” Taeyong’s fingers tighten their grip. His breathing comes a little easier.

 

✘

 

“And things are still okay between you two?”

 

“So far. I thought it would be awkward, but everything’s just...normal. Except he understands me better now, I think. It’s nice.”

 

Taeyong curls himself a little more into Yuta’s side despite himself. Tired and spent, it feels nice to have a warm body next to him. Clingy, Yuta’s called him before, but he’s never moved away. Maybe he enjoys having another warm body, too.

 

“Well, I’m happy for you, babe,” Yuta says, fixing one tuft of Taeyong’s hair that’s sticking up. “You should have people around that make you happy. It’s not always easy in your line of work.”

 

Before Taeyong can stop himself, he asks, “Are _you_ happy?”

 

It would be the perfect excuse for Yuta to get up and leave. Instead, he seems to consider it for a moment, still twirling those strands of Taeyong’s hair between his fingers. “For now, I’m happy enough,” he settles on. “Someday I’ll leave this place, and then hopefully my answer can be a real yes.”

 

This is different. Taeyong knows, logically, that Yuta exists outside this room, but they’ve never talked about it before. Normally, their bedroom chats are filled with Taeyong’s ramblings. Feeling more adventurous now, he asks, “Then why are you here now?”

 

“What’s not to like? Midnight only has contracts with entertainment companies, so I get paid good money to sleep with very pretty people ━ much like yourself.” Taeyong pretends he doesn’t blush. “And besides, babe,” Yuta adds, “did you really think I do this 24/7? I’ve still got a day job to add on to what I save up here. The whole double life thing can be draining, but if things go as planned, it’ll all be worth it.”

 

“And what’s the plan?”

 

“I’m going to travel the world. All of it.” There’s a certain spark in Yuta’s eyes that Taeyong hasn’t seen there before. “Buy a car, hit this half of the globe, then fly over to hitchhike around the rest. I want to see everything, learn everything. And then I’ll know what I’m meant to be doing. That’s the dream.”

 

Taeyong has a sudden image of Yuta in jeans and a faded t-shirt, flagging down a truck from the side of the road with a grin on his face, and feels a dangerous tug in his gut. “That’s a nice dream,” he says quickly. “Seriously. I admire your work ethic.”

 

Yuta gives him that same grin. “Thanks, babe. But don’t you think we’ve done enough talking?” He goes in for a kiss that Taeyong gladly reciprocates, and luckily there’s no more time for overthinking.

 

✘

 

They’re in the middle of a break from practice when it all comes crashing down.

 

Youngho has run back to their dorm to change into something cooler, Jaehyun is grabbing them more water, and Taeyong and Dongyoung are pretending it isn’t awkwardly silent being left alone in the same room together. That silence is interrupted by the door slamming open, making Taeyong jump.

 

A man storms inside, one who Taeyong vaguely recognizes from one of the company meetings. “You’re Lee Taeyong, aren’t you?” he demands.

 

Something foreboding runs down Taeyong’s spine. “Yes, sir. That’s me.”

 

“What’s going on?” Dongyoung questions, moving a few steps closer.

 

The man takes a long breath, like he’s trying to reign in his temper. “What’s going on,” he says, “is a serious breach of security and company policy. So tell me, Taeyong, what do you know about Midnight?”

 

No. This isn’t happening. “I don’t━”

 

“The company was made aware yesterday of an employee violating our agreement, some Japanese boy they fired when we threatened to press charges. And when we went digging through security footage to see which of our idols could be taking advantage of said employee’s indiscretion, guess who we found sneaking out to Midnight?”

 

Taeyong doesn’t even know where to begin with a lie, what he’s supposed to say. And now I-Drop knows, Dongyoung knows, and where the hell is Youngho? He can’t breathe.

 

“You do realize the seriousness of what you’ve done, don’t you?” the man continues. “Trainees aren’t even supposed to _know_ about Midnight until after debut. You’re in no position to be keeping secrets like that right now. And to risk a scandal with another man when we explicitly━”

 

“It wasn’t Taeyong.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“I said it wasn’t him.” Dongyoung steps even closer to Taeyong’s side, placing a firm hand around shoulders that Taeyong hadn’t even realized were trembling. “He’s been with me every evening for the past two weeks to help me with our choreography. I needed the extra practice with our debut coming up.”

 

The man narrows his eyes. “And you are?”

 

“Kim Dongyoung. Another member of HeartBrake. I’m not sure what you saw on camera, but I can vouch for Taeyong.”

 

What is this? Some kind of trick? Blackmail? If Taeyong wasn’t already struck speechless, he would be now.

 

For a long moment, the man’s eyes flicker suspiciously between the two of them. “I suppose the footage was grainy enough to be misinterpreted,” he finally concedes. “Fine. Forget we had this conversation. But if I find out either of you are lying…”

 

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Dongyoung assures him, polite but firm.

 

One more shake of his head and the man is back out the door. Taeyong’s body finally remembers how to breathe. Dongyoung’s hand falls from his shoulder. “I don’t understand,” Taeyong chokes out. “We weren’t━”

 

“Don’t pull shit like that again,” Dongyoung interrupts him. “What were you thinking, going there without at least a mask on? If I-Drop gets pissed, you don’t think they’ll shred your contract, kick you out on the street, and cancel our debut? Jesus, Taeyong.”

 

Ah. So nothing has really changed, after all. Taeyong’s head is bowed low, eyes refusing to meet Dongyoung’s. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” If Dongyoung wants to be angry, curse him, then fine. As long as he keeps it to himself. Taeyong’s accepted this is the best he’ll get.

 

A sigh. “Why are you always like this?” The resignation in Dongyoung’s voice does draw Taeyong’s gaze up, then, and he’s surprised at the expression he finds there. “Every time we talk, you act like I’m about to knife you between the ribs. Every time I try to get _some_ kind of emotion, you completely shut down. And the one time I changed tactics and tried to get you to loosen up, you nearly bit my head off. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

 

Honesty. Maybe it’s time for a little more of that, and a little less judgement. Because Taeyong is suddenly acutely aware that he may have been misreading this for a while now, may have overestimated how much of Dongyoung’s confidence has moved past shields and self-preservation. Maybe more of those assumptions came from jealousy than he’d like to admit. Maybe Dongyoung’s not the only one to blame.

 

“I thought you hated me,” Taeyong admits. “It always seems like you’re waiting for me to make mistakes.”

 

“So that I can try to help you if you do. I know how frustrated you get when you mess up in front of the trainers. And we need you at your best for the good of the whole team”

 

“Oh.”

 

The silence after that revelation drags on too long to be comfortable. Another time, Taeyong would have taken this as his opportunity to leave, but there’s too much at stake here, too much on the line. The unspoken truth between them is too important to ignore. “Thanks for covering for me,” Taeyong tries, testing the waters. “Even if it was because it could hurt your chances━”

 

“Was he right? You’ve been sleeping with some guy at Midnight?”

 

And if only because it’s past the point of denying it, Taeyong decides to give Dongyoung the benefit of the doubt. “Yes.”

 

“So you’re…”

 

“I am.”

 

He’s taken his whole future and placed it into the hands of someone who, an hour ago, he’d assumed would like nothing better than to see him thrown to the bottom of the nearest ocean. The terror is so absolute, he can hardly feel it.

 

“Do the others know?”

 

“Only Youngho. I didn’t want anyone finding out. I didn’t want anything like this to happen. I’m sorry.”

 

Dongyoung looks like he’s resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Look, you can apologize for being a dumbass,” he says, “but don’t apologize for the rest of it. Fuck anyone who says otherwise.”

 

_I accept you. I have your back._ Something else in Taeyong’s internal workings slides into place.

 

“Thank you.” And then, because terror has made him bold, “You said your brother’s friend worked at Midnight, didn’t you? He’d know about other employees, even if they weren’t going to be working there anymore?”

 

At first, Dongyoung gives him a blank look. Then it seems to click, because that confusion morphs into something softer, something genuine. “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

For the first time, Taeyong believes him.

 

✘

 

Dongyoung makes good on his word after all, accomplishing more than what Taeyong thought possible. He’s not actually the one to tell Taeyong about it, of course; the information comes second-hand from Youngho, who Dongyoung thought would be better suited for the task ahead.

 

It’s...strange to know they’ve talked about Taeyong without him around about something like this. The remnants of something paranoid crawl underneath Taeyong’s skin at the thought. Still, they’ve done nothing to betray his trust. He tries to feel comforted by it instead.

 

“We’ve got somewhere to be before practice,” Youngho tells him the next morning, pulling him out of bed. “Or, at least, you do.”

 

In his post-sleep haze, Taeyong manages to process the rest: Dongyoung’s brother’s friend had gotten word to Yuta just before he left on his last day, passing on a message to meet at a spot down the road from the company building if he wanted to give a certain client of his a proper goodbye. And to Taeyong’s relief, Yuta had readily agreed. Their closeness hadn’t been just honeyed words and feigned concern.

 

Youngho is quick to make sure they’re both dressed, masked, and on their way to intercept Yuta before their lessons start for the morning. (Before anyone still keeping an eye on Taeyong’s comings and goings gets suspicious why he suddenly disappeared.) They stop in front of a building Taeyong doesn’t recognize.

 

“No one’s here,” Youngho reassures him. “Apparently it used to be some kind of studio, but it’s abandoned right now. I’ll still keep watch.”

 

“Thank you for doing this for me. Seriously.”

 

“Thank Dongyoung. He’s the one with the connections.”

 

“Still.”

 

Youngho gives him a crooked smile, pushing him forward. “Go get him. He should already be waiting for you.”

 

What has he done to deserve such kindness? Taeyong gives him one last look that he hopes conveys the extent of his gratitude, then steps inside.

 

It’s just as small in here as it looked from out there, if not smaller. Taeyong gets a brief impression of gathering dust and empty boxes before he lays eyes on the man sitting in the corner, who quickly rises to his feet. “Taeyong.”

 

“You really came.”

 

Yuta has already crossed the room, cupping Taeyong’s face gently with his hands. “What, did you think I wouldn’t?” He’s smiling, but there’s a sadness there that Taeyong has never seen. This is a goodbye, he remembers. This is the end. It hurts more than he expected.

 

“I hoped you would, but I hoped...I hoped I wasn’t making it up. That we were friends.”

 

Yuta’s thumb runs across his bottom lip, making Taeyong shiver. “I’m not that good of an actor,” he admits. “I meant it when I said you were special.”

 

It sets off something in Taeyong’s veins, but that feeling is short-lived. He knows what he really wants to ask, what’s been eating at him nonstop. “I’m so sorry for what happened,” he apologizes. “Was it my fault? I never wanted to get you in trouble.”

 

That pulls a long sigh out of Yuta, who lets his hands fall from Taeyong’s face. “No, not you. Some asshole who I thought was less of an idiot. He didn’t want to use Myunghee’s code at the desk, so the boss got pissed at Myunghee for being thoughtful in the first place. I covered for her, took the fall, and...well, I guess you know what happened next. They kicked me to the curb. Fuckers.”

 

Some of the annoyance bleeds from his expression when Taeyong takes his hand. “I never told them, though,” he promises. “That I was also seeing you, I mean. Your secret’s still safe with me.”

 

Taeyong doesn’t bother telling him about the cameras, the threats. He wants Yuta to feel noble, like he’d stopped anything and everything from going wrong. “Thank you,” he says sincerely. “I’m going to miss you, you know. A lot. Talking to you literally kept me sane for the last four months.”

 

“You’re sure you’re not just going to miss all the awesome sex?”

 

Taeyong snorts despite himself, elbowing Yuta with more force than necessary. “Okay, _maybe_ that, too,” he concedes, “but also everything else. You’re...really important to me. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet.”

 

“Same here. But we’ve got this. I’m still going after my dream, even if it’s a bit more of an accelerated schedule now. You still have to debut. And there’s at least a few people you know who love you the way you are. Maybe it’s time for both of us to move on.”

 

Logically, Taeyong knows he’s right. _This,_ whatever it can really be called, was never going to last forever. Maybe it would have blown up in their faces later anyway. But that doesn’t stop Taeyong from feeling like he’s losing something important, doesn’t stop the wetness forming in the corners of his eyes.

 

Yuta notices immediately. “Come here, babe,” he says softly, and Taeyong gladly steps into the offered embrace.

 

The first kiss is bittersweet, the second an ache that pulses painfully in Taeyong’s lungs. By the third, he loses himself to the sensation of slow, reverent touches, so he can’t feel any of the baggage that comes along with it. A hand at his waist pulls him even closer. For a while, it seems like time itself has decided to draw out this moment and delay the inevitable.

 

Then three knocks sound on the other side of the door, making them both jump.

 

“Taeyong?” Youngho’s muffled voice comes from outside. “It’s just me, but we need to go. Dongyoung called and said management is wondering where we are.”

 

Not slow enough, it would seem. Reality isn’t in the mood to take a backseat to this fantasy any longer.

 

“Which one of them is that?” Yuta asks, smoothing down Taeyong’s shirt.

 

“Youngho.”

 

Yuta smiles, though Taeyong can’t say why. “He’s a good man, from what you’ve told me. Keep him close.”

 

“I’m debuting with him, hopefully. It’ll be hard _not_ to keep him close.”

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

One last time, Yuta leans in for the slowest of all their kisses. This one tastes like a goodbye. He hesitates as he pulls away, as he starts to move toward the door. Maybe both of them are waiting to see if Taeyong will stop him. But Taeyong can’t quite bring himself to cross that line. With one final smile, Yuta leaves.

 

Gone.

 

Taeyong fiddles with his facemask for a full minute before he slips it back on and steps back into reality, matching Youngho’s pace on their way back to the practice room. He feels numb.

 

“He’s pretty,” Youngho remarks carefully.

 

“He is.”

 

“But he’s not the one?”

 

Maybe in another lifetime. Maybe not. But in this one? “I don’t think so,” Taeyong says quietly.

 

Youngho doesn’t say anything more, just nods and gives his shoulder a brief squeeze. _I’m here for you_ , that touch says. Taeyong feels it even through the numbness. Though not physically, he holds on and doesn’t let go.

 

 

**IV.**

 

Taeyong lasts about a week. A week of increasingly frenzied choreography sessions, demo recordings, and nights of exhausted, dreamless sleep before this new reality hits him and he starts to break down in earnest. He’s grateful to his group members for having his back, but to have his once safe space ripped away from him without warning, to lose someone who’d quickly become such an important part of his life...Taeyong doesn’t know what to do with himself.

 

Did he make a huge mistake? Has he thrown away his one opportunity to be happy? It’s two in the morning, but he still can’t fall asleep. So he wanders in the dark to the shared kitchen in the dorm, pouring himself a glass of water, and tries to stop his hands from shaking. This will pass. He’ll be fine. (He has to be.)

 

By the time he slips back into his room, the anxiety clawing at his throat hasn’t faded. If anything, it’s gotten worse. Taeyong sits on the edge of his bed, staring at the room’s other occupant, and wonders how selfish it would be to take away from Youngho’s much-needed rest.

 

One look at the peaceful expression on Youngho’s face, just barely illuminated by the sliver of light coming in from the window, and he knows it wouldn’t be right. Instead, he reaches for his phone sitting on the bedside table, only to miss. The phone hits the floor with a muted _thump_ , charger cable dangling uselessly over the edge of the table. Taeyong feels like an idiot, but at least he hasn’t━

 

“Yong, you’re awake?”

 

Youngho is already sitting up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He sounds more confused than anything, until his eyes adjust to the low light and he sees the state Taeyong is in. Then it’s nothing but concern. “What’s wrong?”

 

“You can go back to sleep. I’m just having a moment. It’s fine.”

 

It’s obviously not fine. That much is clear from Youngho’s expression. He holds Taeyong’s gaze for another long moment, and then seems to make up his mind. “Come with me,” he says, swinging his legs out from underneath the covers. “Let’s get some air.”

 

“Youngho, you don’t have to━”

 

“I’m not falling asleep again when I know you’re over here going through something,” Youngho insists, not unkindly. “Here, put this on.”

 

He tosses one of his sweatshirts in Taeyong’s direction, the oversized one that Taeyong likes because the sleeves cover his hands. With no energy to argue (and frankly, needing any kind of distraction), Taeyong slips it on with his shoes and follows Youngho out of the dorm.

 

It shouldn’t have surprised him where they end up. They haven’t been here in over a year, back before everything somehow got crazier, but Taeyong still hasn’t forgotten one of their favorite hideaways as trainees. To this day, he’s not sure what the room is actually for, just that it’s technically restricted and has big windows with plastic strips of blinds that let the moonlight in. The view isn’t impressive; there’s nothing particularly inspiring about a parking lot and the back of a neighboring building. But there’s something about those long strips of moonlight painting the room that had drawn them here time and time again.

 

Youngho sits against the back wall facing the window, just like before. Taeyong tucks himself into the other man’s side, equal parts habit and seeking comfort. He’s still trembling, Taeyong realizes, still breaking. “Whenever you’re ready,” Youngho tells him. “I’m here.”

 

And at last, Taeyong lets go.

 

Confusion and hurt pour out of him like a broken dam, surprising him with their intensity. He cries for the first time in months, though these tears aren’t the guilty, frustrated ones of before. This time, it feels a lot more like relief, like taking a burden off his shoulders. Youngho holds him through all of it, comforting Taeyong like he always has, refusing to let go despite the sobs that shake Taeyong’s frame.

 

“I don’t know what to do,” Taeyong admits when he’s all cried out.

 

“You don’t have to change. It’s good to push out all the pain, but you’re not a different person now, Taeyong. You’re still you.” He nudges Taeyong gently when he says it, voice going up at the end of the sentence like it’s the best compliment there is to give.

 

“Awkward, emotionally stunted, and a bit of a mess?”

 

He’s half-joking, but Youngho tightens the arm still wound around Taeyong’s frame anyway. “No,” he insists. “Dedicated, kind, and one in a million.”

 

And that...that gives Taeyong pause. He twists so he can see Youngho’s face, realizing how close they are at the same instant that his heart does something rather peculiar. A blip, almost, but softer. A flutter. And Taeyong is suddenly reminded of a different time, before all the confusion and terror about sex had overshadowed everything. Back when nothing more than a blossoming crush had scared the living hell out of him. That elevated heart rate and blush from fondness and daydreams, rather than pleasure alone.

 

Taeyong’s stare must linger too long, must be too easy to read, because something in Youngho’s expression shifts. Taeyong can’t put his finger on exactly what that something is. And though it lasts only a moment before Youngho covers it up, something about the moment makes it feel like the ground has shifted underneath Taeyong’s feet. What…?

 

“We should head back,” Youngho says before the gears in Taeyong’s head can keep spinning. “Get enough sleep so that we’re not passing out during practice tomorrow. You feeling any better after letting it out?”

 

Taeyong nods, not trusting his voice. He feels thumbs wipe the tear tracks from underneath his eyes, hands pull him to his feet, and the trip back to their room hardly registers through the recalibrations Taeyong’s heart is trying to put itself through.

 

Now’s not the time, he thinks, when it’s the dead hours of late night/early morning. He doesn’t have the emotional capacity or the attention span to fully dissect that Moment. What he does know for certain is that he feels a world better than an hour ago, and he knows who’s entirely responsible.

 

Youngho tucks him back in under the covers just like during their early trainee days. Taeyong still hasn’t taken the sweatshirt off; he burrows further into the fabric despite it being a few degrees too hot. There’s nothing he wants more right now than to be surrounded by Youngho’s warmth, Youngho’s kind words, Youngho’s━

 

Without thinking it through, Taeyong grabs Youngho’s hand as he turns back to his own bed. The single lamp illuminating the room doesn’t do much for visibility, but he still manages to grab most fingers and part of his palm.

 

“Taeyong?”

 

And Taeyong _almost_ asks him to stay, to really make it like the old days and curl up with him here, because even better than Youngho’s sweatshirt is Youngho himself. But there’s a hesitance in the way Youngho grips his hand in return that makes Taeyong think that, for tonight, it isn’t the right thing to say.

 

“Thank you,” he settles on instead, and Youngho relaxes ever so slightly.

 

“Any time. See you in the morning.”

 

Taeyong’s dreams that night are hazy and indistinct, but they’re undeniably peaceful.

 

✘

 

“What is it?” Dongyoung asks.

 

Youngho and Jaehyun had gone out to get snacks, leaving the other two alone in the dorm, and Taeyong had jumped at the opportunity, albeit reluctantly.

 

“Can I talk to you about something?”

 

“That’s not what you’re doing right now?” There’s a half smirk on his face that reassures Taeyong the words aren’t as flippant as they sound. “I’m listening.”

 

Here goes nothing.

 

“Okay. I don’t want to make things awkward, but I wasn’t sure who else to ask. But, um...something’s happened? Or nothing’s happened, actually, but I kind of want it to? Maybe?”

 

He realizes he’s not making sense. They both do. Dongyoung, to his credit, stays silent instead of calling him out for it. Somehow Taeyong doubts that will last long, which makes him take a breath and start over.

 

“There’s someone I’m...interested in,” he tries, hating how the phrasing makes it sounds so insignificant. “I don’t know if I’d be doing the right thing by going after him, or if it’s better to just...try and let it go.”

 

Dongyoung raises one eyebrow. “And you came to _me_ for advice? Why don’t you go talk to…? Wait.” The expression on Taeyong’s face must be painfully obvious, because Dongyoung’s eyes light up with a spark of surprised amusement, one that quickly becomes more reserved when the gravity of the situation kicks in. “Alright,” Dongyoung says, blinking a few times more. “Not what I expected, but alright. How long?”

 

“I only knew for sure last week. There’s been a lot going on. Maybe it started before that and I didn’t notice.” It feels so much more real now that he’s put the words out there, given them to someone else.

 

“So now you’re afraid of ruining your friendship.”

 

“And our working relationship. The last time I let something like this happen━” Taeyong realizes too late that Dongyoung doesn’t know about the last time, but it’s too late now. “The last time, I brought tension to the whole group and nearly made one member not want to be a part of it. I don’t want to be the person that keeps making things so complicated. It’s not fair to any of us.”

 

Dongyoung actually rolls his eyes. “You’re so…” he starts, taking a calming breath before he continues. “Listen. Go talk to Jaehyun if you’re still feeling this guilty. Clearly it’s eating at you, and the last thing you need right now is more of that.”

 

“But━”

 

“Communication, you idiot.” He softens his tone considerably, adding, “Jaehyun has a cousin who’s gay, too, you know. They’re close. Don’t worry that he’ll be an ass about it.”

 

And maybe Taeyong will admit that Dongyoung’s brand of directness and tough love is something that he needs once in a while. “Fine,” he relents. “But how did you know that in the first place?”

 

“It came up when we were getting to know him. Or, at least, some of us were.” A low blow. Even Dongyoung must think so, because he continues, “It’s not too late to turn things around. The guy’s too sweet for his own good.”

 

Isn’t that the truth? There’s no reason for Taeyong to overthink, to keep worrying over every detail. Jaehyun’s not the type to hurt him, especially over something like this. And he can’t deny that it would feel amazing to _choose_ to reveal this part of himself to someone for once, rather than have the circumstances force it.

 

“Oh, and Taeyong,” Dongyoung tells him lowly. There are voices at the end of the hallway outside. Their time alone is drawing to a close. “I didn’t actually answer your first question. There’s a lot that I can’t say. Just know this: be careful, but don’t be afraid. Got it?”

 

No, he doesn’t ‘got it’. He wants Dongyoung to clarify whatever the hell he’s trying to imply. But Youngho and Jaehyun are already walking back inside with bags of their spoils.

 

_Don’t be afraid_. What a strange piece of advice for Dongyoung to give.

 

✘

 

Getting Jaehyun alone is a lot easier than Taeyong expects. Dongyoung takes one look at Taeyong hesitating in the bedroom doorway and quickly declares that he has an errand to run, leaving Jaehyun to invite Taeyong inside. Taeyong takes one look at Jaehyun’s face, thinks back to all the damage he nearly did locking everything away, and cuts to the chase before he can lose his courage.

 

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says. “But first, there’s something you should know.” The deep breath he’s in the middle of taking doesn’t even finish before he’s saying, “I’m gay,” a secret finally shared of his own free will.

 

At first, Jaehyun just stares at him, stunned. His lips part like he’s about to say something, only to snap shut without a sound. Then, “Okay.”

 

Really, that’s it? “Okay?”

 

Jaehyun shrugs, though his expression makes it clear that he’s not as confident with his response as the action implies. “Yeah, ‘okay’. It’s who you are. That’s cool. But why tell me now?”

 

The third time doing this shouldn’t be as terrifying as the others. In a way, that’s true. The bone-chilling fear of ‘how will they react?’ and ‘is this the end of everything I know?’ is much less prevalent. But Taeyong still feels like he’s floating somewhere just above his body, watching his fate unfold from a place once removed from reality.

 

“To be honest, Dongyoung pushed me to talk to you,” he admits. “But I knew I needed to, to clear the air. I owe you a better explanation for how I treated you when you started training with us.”

 

“You already told me you were stressed. I get it.”

 

“No, that not━ I…” Taeyong hopes his visible embarrassment is enough of a hint, but Jaehyun isn't picking up on it. Fine. “I had a big, stupid crush on you,” Taeyong clarifies through his teeth. It almost sounds silly when he says it out loud, or maybe just not so heavy.

 

“...What?” Jaehyun asks, like he’s never looked in a mirror.

 

“I tried to push you away because I hated myself and my feelings. That’s the real reason I was so cold to you.”

 

“Oh. That’s...I’m sorry?”

 

Taeyong quickly shakes his head. “None of it was your fault. You don’t need to apologize. All I wanted was to tell you the truth. Keeping it a secret never really stopped bothering me.”

 

He hadn’t known saying it aloud would make that truth so clear. Dongyoung had been more right than either of them realized.

 

“Then in that case,” Jaehyun says with a tentative grin, “Not sorry?”

 

Taeyong gives him one of his own in return. “Not sorry,” he agrees.

 

Jaehyun hesitates before asking, “Is there someone else now?” Taeyong tries and fails to hide the pain in his expression. “Someone who doesn’t feel the same way.”

 

“Probably.” That’s an optimistic way to put it

 

“I don’t want to be nosy,” Jaehyun says. “Feel free to tell me to shut up. But...Dongyoung?”

 

“No.”

 

Taeyong can feel it coming, can feel the truth of it about to be held out in the air for both of them to see. He lets it happen.

 

“...Youngho?”

 

Taeyong knows this time that his silence is enough.

 

“Ah. I see.”

 

“I’m lost,” Taeyong admits sadly. “Normally the one I’d talk to about something like this would be _him_ , but I was hoping maybe...? If you don’t mind. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

 

“No, it’s fine,” Jaehyun tells him, looking genuinely surprised. “I’ve wanted to be someone you can open up to. Just, maybe in the morning? Tonight was finally going to be a six hours of sleep night instead of the usual three.”

 

Huh. Taeyong hadn’t realized the time. Maybe he’d debated over having this conversation for longer than he’d thought. How embarrassing. “Of course. Sorry, I can come back━”

 

“Stay,” Jaehyun insists, putting one arm out to stop him. “You’re still upset, and Dongyoung won’t mind if you sleep next to me.”

 

It’s a sweet proposition. Taeyong’s would like nothing more than to fall asleep with a comforting warmth beside him. But he feels reservations keeping that wish at bay, trying to yank him away from the offer.

 

“You’re sure?” he asks. “You don’t mind that I...you know.”

 

“Snore?” Jaehyun deadpans, drawing a surprised laugh from Taeyong’s lips. “Don’t worry about it. Go get changed.”

 

As he drifts off that night, Taeyong finds himself feeling impossibly light, like another weight was lifted off his shoulders that he didn’t even know was there. Their limbs do end up colliding a few times before they settle in completely, but what does it matter? This is okay. Still having this platonic intimacy, still wanting to be close, even with someone who he’d once...yeah. It’s all okay. No one’s getting hurt because of him anymore.

 

There it is, for the first time in a while now. Taeyong can feel it: raw, undiluted happiness.

 

✘

 

The clock continues to tick forward, hands spinning around their focal point faster than should be possible. HeartBrake has their debut showcase scheduled, and the limbo of countless practices and hesitant what-ifs is suddenly, jarringly very real. Somehow, though they were already being pushed to their limits, the intensity multiplies tenfold. They collapse from exhaustion more times than Taeyong would like to count. But he knows these are all necessary evils; they need to be perfect for their first public appearance. I-Drop, not to mention the critical eyes of the public, will expect nothing less.

 

Taeyong is more grateful than ever to be surrounded by people he’s grown to trust and respect: Jaehyun, a quick friend and a good listener. Dongyoung, a loyal confidant who keeps him focused and sane. And Youngho, who’s clearly giving him space right now but will always understand Taeyong even better than he understands himself. Knowing that their dreams depend on each other always gives them that little push to run the choreo one last time, to hold that note a few seconds longer. When Taeyong throws himself at his bed each night, he’s dead on his feet, but determined. And proud ━ of himself, of the team, of what they have the potential to become.

 

The tunnel vision to their debut is so absolute that Taeyong hardly has time to think on his earlier crisis at all, though that’s also partly due to Jaehyun sitting with him several evenings to talk out his feelings before they get the best of him. In many ways, Taeyong thinks the situation is past him.

 

And then the showcase starts. Taeyong is swept up in a tidal wave of spotlights, bass, screams, confetti, and sweat. He feels all of the exhaustion from the past two months come to a head. He feels his damp clothes sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He feels his breath come in short, labored pants that he tries to angle away from the mic clipped to his ear. He has never felt more alive.

 

The sea of people out there in that audience are cheering for him, for _them_. No matter how hard the road ahead will be, they’ve made it. Taeyong thinks the smile stretched across his face might break him in half. When the stage lights dim and HeartBrake files offstage, that joy doesn’t leave him. Any of them, really. They’re practically bouncing off the walls as they talk over one another about how this was better than they could have ever imagined.

 

Somehow, on their way to the dressing room, Taeyong and Youngho get separated from the rest of the pack. They share a look of quiet wonder akin to the rush that Taeyong had felt up on that stage, and Taeyong feels like his heart might burst. “We did it,” he says in a near-whisper. It’s good Youngho’s close enough to hear, because he doesn’t think his vocal cords can handle anything more.

 

“We did.” Youngho looks thirteen again, wide-eyed and happy in a way that makes Taeyong’s chest ache. “You were incredible up there. Not that I’m surprised, but you were just...stunning.”

 

There’s something different about the way he says the compliment, the affection in his eyes. Taeyong wonders what it is until he notices how far Youngho has gotten into his space, how close he’s leaned in. Even then, he tells himself that he’s reading too much into it.

 

Then Youngho’s eyes flicker down to his lips, and Taeyong feels like his head is going to explode. That night in their special place when Youngho had pulled away, when he’d felt something shift, when Dongyoung had said so confidently not to be afraid, when Yuta had smiled hearing Youngho’s name...how long? _How?_ And why hasn’t Youngho…?

 

In an instant, Youngho seems to snap out of the adrenaline-fueled high he’s riding. He steps back from Taeyong’s still-reeling form, a half-mumbled apology on his lips, and turns to go with a tight smile. Taeyong finds out that he isn't quite brave enough to stop him.

 

The group dinner that night passes by in a haze. Even though Taeyong enjoys every course of the delicious meal, it’s hard to concentrate when he feels like he’s dug up a secret he’s not supposed to know. Is there some way he could have misunderstood, misconstrued?

 

Around midnight, Taeyong heads back to the dorm to crash. He lays in bed motionless, feeling his body tingle from head to toe with the adrenaline still coursing through his system (and, if he’s being honest, some of the nerves). He’s still awake when Youngho slips in a little after 1, quietly getting himself ready for the night. Part of Taeyong wants to talk to him. All of Taeyong wants to sleep. So instead, he opts for silence, trying to even out his breaths and count another set of sheep.

 

“Yong? You awake?” Youngho asks quietly.

 

Oh. Suddenly yes, he is very much so. Taeyong gets out a quick “Mmhmm” before putting his tired limbs to work, scooting his body up so that he’s leaning against the headboard. Youngho turns one of the lamps on, which makes Taeyong wince as his eyes try to adjust to the dim glow. He can feel the side of the bed dip as Youngho takes a seat by his feet.

 

“Sorry for waking you up,” Youngho apologizes, “but if I don’t say this now, I don’t know when I’ll get the chance. About what happened earlier, that was...sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

 

“You were going to kiss me,” Taeyong says, only half believing it. He’s never seen Youngho look this panicked before.

 

“No, I...okay, yes. Maybe? I wanted to. But I…” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “I just don’t want you to think I’m trying to take advantage. Not after you came out to me, not after you trusted me with so many secrets, not after you were in such a dark place. Because this goes back way before all of that.”

 

“Youngho…” Taeyong feels light-headed.

 

“It wasn’t right away, but not long after that. Falling for you was so easy to do. But we were always so busy training that I didn’t say anything. And I thought, ‘It’s fine. There’ll be a chance to tell him later,’ except later always seemed to keep getting pushed. Then tonight, standing with you on that stage, knowing we finally did it...If now isn’t ‘later’, then when will it be?”

 

Youngho visibly deflates. “I don’t expect anything at all from you, Taeyong,” he says seriously. “I mean it. I just want you to know that I’ve loved you for a very long time.”

 

Love, he said. _Love_. For a very long time. Youngho looks ready to stand up, so Taeyong shoots out a hand to stop him, latching onto Youngho’s own.

 

“I’m a disaster,” he blurts out. “I’m still unlearning how to hate myself, and I’ve never had anything I could call a relationship. But if you’re willing to put up with me even more than you already are, I’m all yours.”

 

“You mean…?”

 

“I do,” Taeyong admits, nearly choking on the words. It shakes him to his core, how Youngho is looking at him like Taeyong has pulled the stars from the sky and placed them in Youngho’s hands. “Definitely not as long, and I don’t really know the word I’d use, but...” He looks down, embarrassed. “You make me really happy. And _maybe_ I’ve thought about kissing you, too.”

 

“Shit.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Youngho still hasn’t let go of Taeyong’s hand. It’s either by choice or because of the vice grip Taeyong’s fingers have. “I’m half convinced this is all a sleep-deprived hallucination,” Youngho says weakly.

 

“I really hope not. Because then I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

 

There’s a feeling stirring in Taeyong’s bones that makes him bold. No more running away, no more “later”. He leans forward into Youngho’s space and tilts his head, silently asking for permission. Youngho’s eyes slide shut. Their lips meet in a tentative kiss. And then the two are melting into each other, years of companionship and trust wrapped around them like a ribbon.

 

Any doubts Taeyong had are banished in an instant. There’s something here, something between them that’s waiting to burst into full bloom, that Taeyong hadn’t realized he’d been missing. He won’t put a name to it yet, not before the petals open, but he suspects Youngho had said it tonight.

 

And you know what? Taeyong isn’t scared in the least. He’s had enough of guilt and shame and smothered feelings. The old him would either be terrified of messing this up, or wondering if he deserved happiness at all. But now, after everything?

 

He’s ready.

 

 

 

 


End file.
